Poem by Hugh Ranton (1866-1937) as remembered by his daughter Pearl McKinley. (Auntie Pearl)
“The Cutter” was my Grandfather Hugh Ranton and “The Trapper” was my Uncle Bob.
They were working on a large station property in Victoria
I know nothing more of Jim Knox, other than that he wanted my Granddads job, which he wasn’t about to give up.
THE
One morning bright and early
Ere the sun had dried the dew,
Old Jim Knox came thro' the clearing
Shouting, " Cockadoodaldoo."
Little thinking, little dreaming
As across the ridge he flew
That in meeting with the cutter,
He would meet his Water-Loo.
Alone and unsuspecting,
With his pipe a going well,
The cutter dodged the dew drops
As the keen-edged slasher fell.
“Hell and Tommy! What’s the matter,
Wasn't that a rooster crew ?"
There stood Knoxey, pants in soxy,
On the fields of Wattle-oo.
"You've robbed me of my living,
You're a crawler low," he said.
"The job I had my eye on,
I shall punch you in the head."
"Softly, gently," said the cutter.
"That's a game that's played by two,
And we'll fight to see who takes it
on the field of Wattle-oo."
The trapper in the gully,
Hearing sounds of curses rent,
Said,"Hulloa, there's something doing!"
In the scrub beyond the tent.
Helter Skelter, thro' the timber,
Just a moment late, or two,
An upper cut placed Jim
On the fields of Wattle-oo.
Written by Hugh Ranton
1 comment:
Familiar again ~ Pity He did not write more. I only know of three.
I miss Auntie Pearl. She had a wealth of knowledge in her 93 years.
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